


It's Always the Quiet Ones

by MaxWrite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville had never been so terrified of anything in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always the Quiet Ones

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Daily Deviant](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant).

Cho Chang was absolutely terrifying.

Neville didn't understand it, how she could be so popular with the boys. Neville was a boy and he avoided her like the plague.

It wasn't that he didn't understand the attraction. She was very pretty. She had lovely, dark eyes and shiny hair and a radiant smile. Neville wasn't blind, after all. His body reacted to her the way he expected it to. Often at the most inconvenient times.

But she was still _terrifying_. She was taller than he was. Many of the girls in his year were, but they didn't scare him like she did. They didn't smile at him the way she did. They didn't look him up and down or whisper about him the way she did. If she had been taking the piss, looking at him with disdain, well, that he would have understood. Neville was mousy and quiet and riddled with nerves, he was pudgy and awkward. He was used to being made fun of. Business as usual, that.

But that wasn't what Cho was doing. When they'd pass each other in the hall, she'd give him genuine smiles and little waves, she'd say hi to him with that lilt in her voice that girls sometimes got when they fancied someone. Neville had seen that before. He'd seen Cho do that with Harry mere months ago, but something had changed. Neville wasn't clear on all the details, but what he did know was that Cho's interest had shifted. To him.

She'd help him pick up his books when he tripped (or _got_ tripped, as was often the case), she'd tell bullies off when they harrassed him, she'd touch his arm and ask with concern if he was all right. He'd simply gulp and nod. What else was he supposed to do? Actually _speak_ to her? She didn't seem put off by his silence. Somehow she seemed to understand it, even find it endearing. She'd smile in that way that made her eyes seem to smile too, she'd squeeze his arm and then head off on her way, spinning round and walking jauntily down the hall, her little uniform skirt flouncing behind her.

That skirt was another thing altogether. It was too bloody short! How did anyone in the universe ever get anything done when Cho Chang was traipsing about in a skirt like that? Criminy.

Well, he'd have to speak to her eventually. This was all getting out of hand. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, he couldn't think. He'd been rubbish at Potions enough as it was, but since she'd started flirting, he'd destroyed three whole cauldrons. Well, at any rate Professor Snape seemed pleased to have Neville's increased screw-ups to focus on. Oh, how he loved to make an example of Neville. Neville supposed it was nice that at least one person was getting something out of this.

But no more. Today was the day. Neville was going to march into the Great Hall, straight over to the Ravenclaw table, straight to Cho and ask to speak privately with her. He knew what would happen. Her friends would giggle, partly at the fact that a boy was demanding her attention, partly because that boy was Neville. They'd wonder when he'd suddenly grown a backbone. Well, he would show them. He would open his mouth, take a breath, and he would _speak_. And his voice wouldn't crack and he wouldn't turn bright pink, and if he was going to faint, well by God, he would wait until he was at least out in the front hall before he did it.

Neville nodded to himself as he stood outside the Great Hall. He watched student after student pile into the enormous room, each one walking by and going in as if Cho Chang and her ridiculously tiny skirt weren't sitting inside. Neville squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest. And off he went ...

... straight to the Gryffindor table to hide his face behind his Herbology book.

Who was he joking? He'd had no intention of going up to her. Well, there'd been some intention there, but it had been horribly misguided. He peeked over his book at the Ravenclaw table, his eyes zeroing in on Cho in seconds as though drawn to some kind of light that she radiated. Maybe it was the way the light reflected off the silky sheet of hair that cascaded down her back, the way it danced as she talked animatedly with her friends and moved her head about. It wasn't because he liked her. No, he wasn't that foolish. If he was going to go after anyone, it should be someone more in his league, someone a little more normal. Cho wasn't a normal girl. She was the most terrifying creature to ever walk the earth. And he did not like her. Nope. He didn't want to like her. He didn't need the added stress. There was something almost liberating about knowing and accepting one's own limitations.

She was still occupied with her friends, so Neville lowered his book with a sigh of relief and helped himself to some bacon. He chugged several large gulps of orange juice. His mouth was awfully dry. Perhaps he should try to get a girlfriend, try to scare Cho off a bit. Neville surveyed the room for someone appropriate. Surely, if Cho liked him, there must be another, less frightening girl in the school who fancied him too. Honestly, if only one girl in the entire school fancied him, why on earth would it be Cho Chang? It didn't make sense.

"Hi, Neville."

He jumped, shaking the entire table when his knee flew up and banged against the underside. He clutched his throbbing knee beneath the table and looked slowly up at the one girl in the world he couldn't bear to talk to.

His lack of verbal response didn't faze her. She took a seat next to him as though it was something she did everyday. Neville glanced around, unsurprised to find a few curious eyes watching them.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said. "Neville, I don't know if you'd noticed, but I ... well, I ... I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this sort of thing, I'm afraid."

Neville gulped and slumped down in his seat.

"I probably should have said something ages ago. Yes, I was sort of dating Harry, but, well, that's over now. He really isn't my type. I'm sorry, I know he's your friend, but don't you find him a bit, I dunno, up himself sometimes?"

As if on cue, Harry went walking by, with Ron and Hermione bickering behind him. They moved a little ways up the table from Neville and sat down. Neville hazarded a glance at Cho; she was scowling, but Neville was still too unnerved to be indignant on Harry's behalf.

"He's just so ... _argh_." She looked at him and relaxed. "I'm sorry. It's nothing. It's over. I go for a sweeter sort of guy, more sensitive, you know?"

Neville gulped.

"Someone who isn't constantly the centre of attention." She shimmied closer to him. Their knees touched and Neville thought he might pass out. "You're sweet," she went on, her voice quieter now. "And you're such a good listener."

He felt her touch his hand and could do nothing but sit there and let it happen. His eyes darted; no one seemed to notice this most bizarre of occurrences, no one had any idea that Cho Chang was holding Neville's hand beneath the table. The curious looks had all gone back to their breakfasts, apparently finding nothing out of the ordinary. Were they mad?

She suddenly changed position, swinging a leg over the bench so that she was straddling it and facing him. He glanced down before he could stop himself. Her legs were spread on either side of the bench, spread wide open, her creamy-looking thighs going off in separate directions. Her little skirt hung between them, looking like the most inadequate piece of clothing ever stitched together.

"Have you ever been kissed?" she whispered suddenly. He looked at her face in alarm. She gazed back earnestly, stroking his hand with her thumb. Was he actually expected to answer? He tried to remember how to do that. He took a chance and shook his head. A second later, his brain remembered that a head shake was indeed the proper response to this particular question and he relaxed a little.

"You've never ... done anything with a girl before. Have you?"

He shook his head again, this time emphatically, as though she'd asked if he'd stolen something.

"You do like girls, don't you, Neville?" She placed his hand _on her thigh_. Neville looked down to make sure it was actually happening. Yep, there was his hand on her smooth, firm skin. Great Merlin's beard, his thumb and index finger were touching her _inner_ thigh! Neville glanced around again. Still, no one was watching.

"I haven't done much beyond kissing," she said. He felt her shift and he looked down again. Her legs were slightly parted now. Oh, sweet Jesus. He looked away, looked down at his plate and tried to breathe. _Just keep breathing. Don't pass out._ His hands were clammy. Didn't that bother her? Clammy hands on her skin? Surely that was a turn off. But Cho didn't seem to care as she began shifting Neville's hand further and further up her thigh, closer to the burning heat that Neville knew was underneath her skirt, the heat he could feel now, getting hotter as his hand drew nearer. His mouth was a desert. He didn't care if this was no time for orange juice, he picked up his glass with his free hand and gulped some down.

"My ex-boyfriends have been perfect gentlemen," she went on with a sigh. "Not that I have a problem with that. It was nice. But now ... now I want to do things," she whispered. "Do you think about doing things? Things with girls?"

Neville put his glass down, swallowed and exhaled heavily. "Yup," he squeaked, somehow finding his voice, though just barely. He'd actually spoken to her. And the sky wasn't falling. He glanced at her and she gave him a coy, rather sexy smile. This time, Neville couldn't look away. Her heat was searing his hand as his wrist pushed her skirt further up.

And then he felt it. She had hair there.

Well, of course she did. She was fifteen. Or sixteen. Neville couldn't remember which. He didn't know why he was surprised by the little curls at her crotch, but it was a strangely pleasant surprise. He let her guide his hand to cup the entire area, and he saw her face change just slightly, saw a hint of something lustful creep into her eyes, saw her lips part just a bit. He felt her breath as she slowly exhaled, saw her small chest heave beneath her sweater. She guided his middle finger right into her, slipped it between the lips down between her legs. She was wet down there. Neville knew that girls got wet down there. Of course he knew. Still, he found himself once again pleasantly surprised.

His finger slipped in deeper, and she gasped just slightly. His heart was pounding. His dick was throbbing. How the hell was he supposed to stand up after this? If he was late to class because of her ... well, he supposed he could live with that. A dopey grin touched his lips, which he wiped off his face straight away, but not quickly enough; she'd seen it. And to his relief, she grinned back, a shy, rather innocent grin, with a hint of excitement in her eyes.

She let go of his hand, and he kept it there. He tested the waters a bit, wiggling his finger about inside her. She squirmed and leaned close to him. "You're the first to touch me like this, you know," she whispered into his ear. He panted a bit, suddenly feeling out of breath. "You've never been touched, have you?"

He shook his head. And then he felt her hand on him, finger-walking along his thigh toward his groin. She found him, found the hard ridge in his trousers, and gingerly felt it, ran her fingertips along it. He couldn't control his breathing. He couldn't stop himself panting. His mouth was so dry, he thought he might cough up a tumble weed.

"My friends think I'm odd for liking you," she said.

He looked at her in shock. "Y-you've told them? That you like me?"

She cocked her head. "Sure. Why wouldn't I? I don't care what they think."

He gazed at her, at her mouth. He wanted to kiss her. Surely they should have kissed before touching each other like _this_. Well, too late to change it now. And truth be told, Neville wouldn't have changed a thing.

"We should hang out," she breathed. "Yeah?"

He nodded.

She smiled sweetly, then took his hand again and pushed his finger deeper into her wet warmth. He watched her mouth drop open and her eyes glaze, watched her body arch. A little groan escaped her. Neville's dick jerked in his pants.

"Can we do more of this when we're alone?" she asked. Her eyes were so dazed now, he thought perhaps someone had slipped her a love potion. That would certainly explain a few things.

He remembered he should be nodding. So, he nodded. He was rewarded with one of her radiant smiles.

Then, without warning, she stood. Neville's finger slipped out of her and he watched her swing her other foot over the bench, bringing her knee up high enough that Neville caught just the tiniest glimpse of the black thatch of hair he'd just been feeling. He looked around, thinking for sure someone had noticed, but the only eyes that were on her were dropping casually back down to the food or books before them. They'd noticed nothing strange.

Was he imagining things? Even if no one had seen her privates, why didn't anyone think it odd that she was talking to him at all? Maybe this wasn't as odd as he'd thought. Maybe she wasn't out of his league. Well ... he found that downright uncomfortable. He'd grown accustomed to his place in the world. What was he now?

She leaned over and whispered in his ear that she would talk to him later, then she spun round and walked off. He watched her go, all the way around Gryffindor table and back to Ravenclaw's.

He sat there feeling shaky. His heart was still thudding, he knew he was ghostly pale and he was so hard he was sure he wouldn't be able to stand again for the next half hour. He felt a bit sick, a bit frightened. What if someone _had_ seen? There was all sorts of magic in this place. Surely when two students did something this wrong, someone somewhere knew about it. Surely an alarm went off some place. McGonagall was going to march up to him any second and demand to see him in her office. Dumbledore would probably be there waiting and he'd look at Neville with disappointment. That was always the worst, the disappointment. Was it really worth it? This never would have happened to Old Neville, Normal Neville, the Neville that no one noticed, that girls didn't fancy. Normal Neville could have been halfway through breakfast by now, ready to head off to class. Without the bothersome erection.

He rubbed at his middle finger with his thumb. It was still damp. Glancing nervously around as though someone might know exactly what he was doing, he brought his finger up to nose and sniffed it. The scent went straight to his cock. It was like a shot of adrenaline coursing through his body.

He smiled to himself. The hell with Normal Neville. It was totally worth it.

END


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